


Paperwork and Prezi

by thepeskyunicorn



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, M/M, based on a tumblr post about graves presenting a prezi to credence, because he is emotionally constipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeskyunicorn/pseuds/thepeskyunicorn
Summary: It is to no one’s surprise that Credence is the one who manages to grasp No Maj’s technology the fastest. He takes to it like fish to water, and Graves is continually procuring strange, fiddly items for him to experiment with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has undergone a few changes, mostly because of glaring mistakes on my part. Many apologies!

It is to no one’s surprise that Credence is the one who manages to grasp No Maj’s technology the fastest. He takes to it like fish to water, and Graves is continually procuring strange, fiddly items for him to experiment with.

 

“It’s all very simple,” Credence tells him excitedly, pulling Graves down onto the sofa next to him. He unfurls his legs, repositioning the laptop, gesturing excitedly and showing off what he had learnt that day. “Look! All you have to do is double click here, here, and voila! You’ve got your downloaded information safe with you!”

 

Graves smiles indulgently at the enthusiasm in Credence’s voice, trying to pay attention to what he was presenting. He squints at the large screen of a ‘laptop’, a gadget Credence is immensely fond of, poking his finger at the screen. Credence swats the offending digit away.

 

“Why doesn’t it move?” Graves frowns, withdrawing his hand quickly. The picturesque photo of the deep blue sea encompasses the screen, the image broken by several small rectangular boxes that lines up neatly along the right side of the picture.

 

Credence giggles, leaning back to lie against Graves’ chest, laptop balanced precariously on his thighs. “That’s the desktop background. And No Maj pictures never move. I thought you were up to speed on that?” Credence’s tone is light, teasing, cute as a button. Graves bends down to kiss the tip of his nose. 

 

“What, are you calling me an idiot?” Graves puts on a mock-offended tone, brushing Credence’s fringe from his forehead. Credence shrugs, grinning cheekily. “How dare you. You’ll be punished for this!” He trails his hands down to the boy’s side, digging in his fingers to tickle Credence. 

 

“Stop!” Credence shrieks, doubling over and laughing. “You wicked, wicked man!”

 

There is a fumbling moment as they both tried to gain the upper end, ending in a truce and a breathless kiss against the couch. 

 

Credence sighs dreamily, lashes ghosting butterfly kisses against Graves’ skin as he lingers, catching his breath. After a moment, he turns his head a fraction, clicking quietly on the laptop, opening up files and changing the background of the screen.

 

Graves peek over Credence’s shoulder to look at his handiwork, eyebrows rising as he notes the change. Credence has switched the picture of the sea for a plainer one - a picture of the both of them, taken clumsily on one of the fiddly programmes on the laptop. They were looking at each other, laughing at an unknown and forgotten joke, thighs pressed and fingers twined together. Credence looks innocent, sweet, eyes gazing adoringly at him. The grin have made him appear younger, his frown line smoothing out into a crinkling of crow’s feet.

 

“What about this one?” Credence asks, craning his neck back to look at Graves.

 

Graves lean forward to run a finger across the screen, caressing both their still and immobile figures. Credence doesn’t smack his hand away this time. “It’s perfect,” he breaths, smiling down at Credence as the boy shuts the cover of the laptop, winding his fingers into Graves’ hair and pulling him down for a kiss.

 

***

 

Mr Graves have been acting strangely for days now. Well, stranger than usual. With all the new spells and the many more he sees Mr Graves performs every day, it’s hard to distinguish normal from the strange.

 

No, Credence is sure of it. Mr Graves is acting strange, going into silent thoughtfulness more often, forehead puckered in deep thought, often playing with the food that Credence had made for dinner. He still kisses Credence with the same well worn passion, still looks at Credence like he was the stars when he thinks Credence is not looking but he is more distant now, in a way that Credence cannot put his finger on.

 

And so, against his best intentions, Credence resorted to drink. He raids the cellar, huddling in a cool, damp area, uncorking a bottle of oak matured mead to chug sadly one cold evening when Mr Graves sent an owl to announce that he would be working late. He has his laptop positioned in front of him, the luminous light casting a garish glow on his skin. Opening up his files, Credence scrolls through the pictures he had sneakily taken of the man, candid moments that captured a wide, unrestrained smile or an unglamorous facial expression. They are not enough to sooth his troubled spirit.

 

Mr Graves found him like this hours later, near unconscious, conversing incoherently with a framed photograph of Graves. The enchanted picture nods seriously in response and shoots a reproachful look at the real Mr Graves when he comes in to lift Credence off the floor.

 

“Do you love me?” Credence slurs, waving goodbye to the picture which blows him a kiss, tucking his head into Mr Graves’ neck. “Only I think you don’t. You’re so far away these days.” Credence rubs the stubble on Mr Graves’ cheeks. “But I’ll wait for you. Come back.”

 

Credence imagines he sees Mr Graves’ face fall as he is gathered up and brought upstairs. “There’s only ever you, darling,” he murmurs, kissing away a stray strand of hair on Credence’s face. Credence makes a small sound and raised his chin, eyes closed and brows furrowed, silently demanding a kiss.

 

Graves did not refuse. “I’m so sorry, my sweet boy.” He tucks Credence in, smoothing down the covers. “But I promise everything will be back to normal soon.”

 

Credence hums sleepily, making grabby hands at Graves. Pulling off his jacket and trousers, Graves smiled and complies.

 

***

 

Credence is baking an almond cake, recipe courtesy of Miss Queenie, when Graves apparated into the flat. 

 

Credence drops the wooden spoon he was using to fold the batter, rushing into the living room. Mr Graves looks a little pale and shaky, but otherwise in good health. “Mr Graves!” he wipes his hand down on his apron, looking at the man in surprise. “I didn’t know you would be home early.”

 

Mr Graves only smiles, his actions a little jerky. He doesn’t greet back, only setting down his briefcase and snapping it open to pull out a laptop similar to Credence’s.

 

Credence cocks his head, confused. He is fond of his own laptop and besides, it isn’t in need of a replacement, so what is Mr Graves doing with an identical one? He walks slowly over, quickening his steps when Mr Graves motions for him to take a seat on the sofa. 

 

Credence arranged himself neatly, patting the apron down on his lap, laying his palms flat on his thighs and looking expectantly up at Mr Graves. The man turned abruptly, fiddling with the laptop for a minute or two before turning back around, gesturing to the screen with a flourish.

 

On it, a simple, large bubble reads “Reasons Percival Graves loves Credence Barebone” on a Prezi slide. Wordlessly, Mr Graves click once, allowing the bubble to zoom into a picture, one of the both of them together, smiling slightly with their arms around the other’s waist.

 

The next slide is a list, full of virtues which Mr Graves surely means to insinuate he has, but which Credence is very sure he does not possess. He is not “kind” or “strong” or “courageous”. On the contrary. Only a selfish, weak-willed coward like him would admit to the deep want in him, always craving for more of Mr Graves, needing to steal him away completely, carve him a place in his ribs and settle him there.

 

The next few slides are more pictures, each captioned with a short sentence, one reading “Your hair was long enough to kiss your neck so I did the same”, another reading “You are my heart”, and one that simply reads “I love you.”

 

Credence could feel his chest clench in the familiar way when it comes to Mr Graves, his eyes fixated on the words of affection, too shy for Mr Graves to say out loud. He mouths the words carefully, storing them away in his memories to pour over later.

 

The last slide is full of quotes from the two Miss Goldstein, and one from Mr Scamander, all of whom spoke of Mr Graves’ devotion to him. “I know more about my boss than I need to,” Miss Tina’s read. “He’s an absolutely cad,” Miss Queenie’s one reads. “The things I picked up from his mind concerning you! But there’s no doubt about it, dear, he loves you very much”. Mr Scamander’s read “I am very happy for you”.

 

The slides transitions to the first one yet again as the prezi finishes, a momentary tense silence filling the room.

 

Mr Graves is the first to crack it. “I hope it wasn’t too much,” he says, twisting his cufflinks. He is looking determinedly down at his shoes, wearing an uncertainty that is too rare and uncommon on him.

 

Credence sits still for a moment, gathering his strength and his thoughts, planning for the best course of action. Then, with a deep breath, he stands up, walking over to cup Mr Graves’ face in his warm palms, and pour his heart out into a kiss.

 

He presses their lips together desperately, almost sloppily, residual flour smearing across Mr Graves’ cheekbones. He tries to tell Mr Graves his love, his adoration, his absolute trust with what he can, for Credence is convinced that if he opens his mouth to speak, the words would come spilling, messy and mangled, from his tongue. So he speaks with his kisses, generous and bountiful.

 

“I knew you were a romantic,” Credence says wetly, when he has found his voice to talk. “You utter sap.”

 

Mr Graves grins, relieved and charmed. “Only the best for you, my darling.” He sighs, running his hand up and down Credence’s back. “I’m sorry for being so distant for the past week. I’ve been trying to learn how to use No Maj technology and between that and keeping the presentation secret…” He trails off, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Credence’s. “Will you forgive me?”

 

Credence laughs quietly, pulling away enough to kiss each of Graves’ eyelids. “Of course, you great fool.” He grins at Graves’ faux glare. “Come, help me with the almond cake,” he says, pulling Graves off the couch into the kitchen. “Miss Queenie said that it is your favourite.”

 

Graves leaves the laptop as it is, the screen still illuminated on the first slide, letting himself be dutifully led to the kitchen by the love of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Idea taken from http://imagaypotatoe.tumblr.com/post/155216812758/moonpouch-okay-a-quick-bit-of-rambling
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly welcomed!


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